Steps
by TapesAndRecords
Summary: "How long are things going to be like this? So... undefined?" Her palm's slippery from condensation when he laces his fingers through hers.


**note: **It's been ages, I know. I've had no inspiration, and block, and then the news we got the other day felt like a massive punch to the gut. But I'm recovering, albeit slowly, and thus I give you this. I wrote it in response to a kinda-prompt on Tumblr late yesterday/early this morning, and decided to post it here (okay, so I was told). It's set in a tiny little bit of an AU where everything'll turn out fine. For those maybe wondering, I have the next and final chapter of _Abscond_ more or less ready to post, so that should be up in a few days.  
Enjoy, and feel free to review at the end.

**disclaimer: **Eh, disclaimed. (I'm not really in the mood, most of my experiences lately have involved crying)

**listening to: **I Don't Believe It Anymore, by Cote de Pablo.

* * *

It's still hot outside and in when she knocks on his door, around 8 in the evening. The summer's holding out for no one, and despite her thin, cool clothes, her forehead still has shine and her skin feels unnervingly sticky. He opens the door with a blank expression that quickly turns into a grin.

"Ziva. What're you doing here?"

She shrugs and mutters something about being in the neighbourhood. She knows he won't buy it, but'll accept it anyway, and as expected he steps aside and lets her in. She's been here a few times since her first visit, under rather unpleasant circumstances, all times of which have been during this summer. But tonight, something feels different, and it's not just the heavy air.

"You want a beer?" he asks, wandering through to his kitchen whilst she toes off her shoes.

"Please."

She slouches on the couch and takes a gulp from her bottle once he returns, and she sighs contentedly at the cool relief the drink gives her. Rolling the glass over her forehead a few times, too, she lets her eyes slide shut as she relaxes.

"It is too hot." she says, with a slight tone of distaste.

"Oh yeah, it definitely is. I'm just glad for refrigerators."

Her head turns and she shoots him a look out the side of her eye. He smiles almost guiltily and slouches too, mirroring her position.

"So what've you been up to these past few days?" He shuffles closer as he speaks.

"Reading. I have read three books since we last saw each other."

His eyebrows raise and whilst she could send him a glare, she almost wants to giggle instead.  
"Ziva, we saw each other last week. It was four days ago."

"I am a quick reader. And they were short books."

He huffs indignantly and she nudges him with her shoulder. Ordinarily, she'd move away, but despite the lingering heat, his presence is a comfort, and her head finds its way to rest against the top of his arm. He tenses somewhat, and she can tell he's surprised, but eventually he relaxes more and tilts his head too, his temple brushing her hair.

"How long are things going to be like this? So... undefined?"

"What, with work?"

She nods, but it's only after doing so that she realizes her words could mean something else entirely.

"I don't know, Ziva. Honestly, I wish I did, it'd make so many things so much easier."

It's the answer she was expecting, really, but it still offers no closure.

Her palm gets slippery from condensation all of a sudden, and she switches her beer from her right hand to her left. When she settles it back, her skin brushes Tony's, and before she knows it their fingers are lacing together.

Their eyes meet, hers presumably full of questions, but his are just unreadable. And unbearable to keep for much longer.

She leans forward and places her beer on his coffee table, about to free her hand and leave, probably announcing that she's outstayed her welcome, but the bottle's hardly met the table before Tony pulls her back.  
And now, when she looks at him, his eyes are as clear as day.

His palm cups her cheek suddenly, but not yet decisively; as if he can't quite decide whether to go through with this or not. But now, her heart is pounding in her chest, not out of fear, but out of agonizing anticipation. And so, she leans in and presses her lips to his, and she can both feel and hear his gasp.

It's a soft embrace, gentle too, but it still makes her feel dizzy and breathless and love struck all at once. And she knows, right then, that she will never tire of this.  
Their lips move against each others, still lightly, and her hands reach up to grasp his shoulders, his collar, his arms, she doesn't mind but she just needs to _feel_ him.  
And he lets her, his hands staying on her cheeks the whole while.

When they part, it's neither for air nor to speak, necessarily. It just feels right. And then, when she opens her eyes and finds him grinning at her in an almost-shy manner, she does the exact same.

Whilst things may still be undefined between them, those things are now moving. And yes, it may be one step at a time, but she knows she'd much rather have that than no steps at all.  
So, when his grin fades a little, and hers does too, she meets him in the middle and kisses him again.

Maybe two steps are fine, too.


End file.
